Secrets and Seductions (2 page)

Leah’s nerves were shot, and she began to shake. “I’ll fight you in court if I have to.”

“Really? Legal battles cost a lot of money.”

“Oh, damn you to hell, Mac Grainger.”

“Many have tried.” Then he did something she didn’t expect and wished to God he hadn’t. He laughed, a rich and throaty sound that fired something she didn’t believe she would ever feel again: excitement.

She’s hiding something.

Mac’s instinct kicked in, and he sucked in a low breath, letting the oxygen roll around his lungs and seep through his veins.

She’s guilty.

Just like you.

He pasted on his best smile and watched as the color drained from her face. All the while, her striking green eyes held him captive. They changed from light green and then replicated the shades of the forest as her mood darkened.

For more than a heartbeat, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Curtis had called his wife cold and unforgiving, and yet all he could see was passion and emotion. A spitfire.

Leah Talbot-Grainger was a beautiful woman, with a tousle of curls that created an auburn halo falling to her shoulders and eyes that had the capacity to bewitch. When the tip of her tongue slid across her slightly parted mouth, Mac’s body heated. Her actions taunted him.

But there were no tears, only a desperate fear in eyes that shadowed secrets, and without realizing it, she confirmed everything Curtis had told him about her, strengthening his resolve to protect his niece at all costs.

As the elevator leveled off with the thirtieth floor, the doors opened in silence, and she shoved past him and retreated to the far wall.

Without saying a word, he placed a foot in the doorway, forcing them to remain open.

Frightened green eyes stared at him. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Making sure you understand.”

She wrapped her hands across her middle. He recognized her desperation. “Oh, I understand, all right, but you won’t win.”

“We’ll see about that.” He removed his foot and stepped back. “I’ll be in touch, Leah.”

The elevator doors slid closed, and for a moment, he simply stood there.

What next?

Needing to think his next step through, Mac strode back to his office, took a seat at his desk and swiveled round to face the stunning Auckland vista. It was early summer, and the Waitemata harbor glistened, a myriad of yachts and launches cruising against the backdrop of a bustling city and the lush islands in the gulf.

As a teen, he’d tried to swim to one of those islands, not realizing until halfway there how far it was. He’d made it through sheer grit and determination and learned a hard life lesson. Be prepared. Follow through.

His foot tapped a silent beat on the carpet as a sense of urgency egged him on. He had a plan. Part one was complete.

He knew his announcement had been a shock. More than that. Fear had ringed Leah’s eyes, and that validated his suspicions.

It had taken Mac fifteen years to reach this spot in his life. Curtis’s emails and then his death had prompted his move back to New Zealand to come home and make amends.

Except for Charlee, Mac’s family was all gone, and he wasn’t about to let her down. He wouldn’t let Leah ruin his niece’s life.

A smug smile curved his mouth upward. Plans. It was all about plans, focus, success. His way and on his terms.

His interoffice phone buzzed, and he flicked the speaker switch. “Yes, Connie.”

“It’s already after six thirty, Mac, do you mind if I go?”

“Six?” Where had the time gone?

“You’ve been sitting there for a long time. You okay?”

He heard the hint of concern in his personal assistant’s voice. “Yes, fine. Go. ” He switched off the speaker and turned back to the view. What was he doing? Thinking, that’s what. Thinking of long legs, auburn curls and eyes that a man could drown in. That and justice. Curtis’s accusations that Leah neglected her daughter had scored deep with Mac. He knew about parental negligence, had experienced it and intended to make sure his niece didn’t suffer as he had. He would keep a close eye on Leah, watch her every move.

He reached for his phone and punched in the phone number of an investigator he’d used before, a man he trusted.

As he waited for Barney to pick up, he sought out the file on his desk and rifled through it for the particular documents he needed. He scanned them, satisfaction easing his claustrophobic shroud of tension.

“Barney.”

“Mac Grainger giving you the go ahead.” He dropped the file back to his desk. Leah had better watch out.

“Sure thing, Mr. Grainger.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“No problem.”

Reassured Leah wouldn’t be able to run out on this one, he disconnected the call, pushed up from his chair, stretched and surveyed the view of the downtown.

One hundred and fifty years ago, the area had been ocean, until the city’s forefather’s reclaimed it from the sea so the shallow harbor could host the large ships bringing immigrants from across the globe. Now it bustled with life and vitality.

As Mac took in the view of a city built on volcanoes, he couldn’t help but wonder what his forefathers would think now of this sprawling metropolis with its Polynesian flavor.

From his vantage point he spied the Sky Tower, and a sense of satisfaction settled over him. A mecca for casinos and fine dining, the tower was the only building taller than his. Years ago when he’d first left school and traveled to the city from his family home on the northern shores of the city the only high rise in the city was four stories high. How life had changed. And he too had come a long way in a few short years. The bad boy had definitely done good.

He was an uncle now and had responsibilities.

He turned from the million-dollar view. Yes, he’d achieved everything he’d set out to do. Almost.

Now it was time to put part two of his plan into place.

Chapter Two

The drive home passed in a blur of tears.

Why did Mac Grainger want to get to know Charlee?

A tumble of reasons scattered around in Leah’s brain.

He said he wanted to rekindle family ties, but what concerned her more was what Curtis might have said in his email.

Married as a naïve twenty-year-old consumed by her first passion, she’d been oblivious to the real Curtis until it was too late. “What a fool I was,” she sniffed as she directed her battered pickup to the freeway off-ramp.

A blind fool. She’d believed everything Curtis had said. She’d signed everything, and look where it got her. Dead broke, with her olive grove mortgaged to the hilt, praying that as the crop reached maturity at last, she would be able to pay off the crippling debt.

But Charlee always came first.

From the day her daughter had arrived, Leah declared she would give the little girl the security and sanctuary of a stable home, something Leah had never had.

Now Curtis’s brother wanted to be a part of her daughter’s life. Could she trust him? Trust a Grainger? How like Curtis was he?

Through the winding countryside that was in fact only thirty minutes from the heart of the city, Leah ignored the beautiful setting. Normally the sway of the towering palms and the sight of the luxuriant scarlet flowers of the Pohutukawa trees brought a smile to her face, but today she could see only Mac Grainger’s cold eyes and her future being torn from her. She cruised the last fifty meters up the driveway and brought the vehicle to a halt in the courtyard outside her tumbledown villa. She switched off the engine, but nothing could stifle her mounting panic.

What was she going to do?

Stay and fight? Or run? And where to?

With more questions than answers, she scrambled from the vehicle. Charlee would be home soon after an extended playdate with her friend Matty’s children, and she had to get rid of her tears. There was no way she’d let Charlee see she’d been crying.

In a brain fog, Leah cooked dinner for the two of them, and once she’d settled Charlee for the night, she headed outside. An evening hush had settled over her tiny part of the world, the last heat of the day sending up rippling waves from the verdant valley. Row upon row of olive trees stood sentinel, their dusky green leaves sparkling under the sun-shower they’d had earlier. She found herself smiling at the leafy acres spread out before her, relishing the tranquility of it all. It refueled her determination. She would do her grandfather proud.

Just for a moment, she shut her eyes, the scratchy sound of cicadas her only companion.

“Enough daydreaming…” Her eyes flicked open. Climbing onto the deck of the pickup, she began to unload the last of the olive shrubs she’d not had time to shift the day before. It was time to put aside big problems like Mac Grainger. She needed to think, and hard work had always helped her think, or else the rising terror would take over.

After hefting the first of the bushes from the pickup, she placed it by the fenced entrance to the grove, then climbed back up on the vehicle for the next one. She hoisted it on her hip and turned to get off.

“Need a hand?”

Mac Grainger leant against the porch railing, arms folded across his broad chest. He stared at her, full mouth curling at the corners.

Leah swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat.

He’d changed from the suit he’d worn at his office into a pair of jeans and Polo shirt, making him appear deceptively approachable. Almost—because Leah knew Mac Grainger wasn’t a man to toy with.

A few yards behind him, parked beneath the copse of cabbage trees, was a red Ferrari. Expensive, classic, with a hint of the devil. She shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Leah backed up a step, hoping the shadow cast from the overhanging trees would hide the shock she felt heating her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

“Exactly what I said I would. I take my role as uncle seriously.”

The bush she’d been holding slid from her grip and landed at her feet. “You can’t just walk in here any time you like. This is my property. I’ll…”

He stepped away from the porch and took a few steps toward her. “I’m not going away, Leah. We need to talk.”

She glanced to the house.
Charlee, please stay asleep.
“Not now. Not here,” she countered.

He came another step closer. “You can’t run away.”

Could he read her mind?

“You don’t get a choice, Leah,” he reminded her.

Choice.
That word highlighted their differences. Rich versus stone broke.

“We can talk here,” she prevaricated.

“We could, but we won’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Look, why make this harder than it has to be?”

“It’s already hard. I don’t want you here.”

“And I told you I’m not going away. So I guess we’re at an impasse.”

For the count of several heartbeats, his dark eyes held her captive. He wasn’t about to budge. Somehow she had to get him on her side and appeal to his better nature.

Did he have one?

Of that, Leah wasn’t certain. He was, after all, Curtis’s brother.

Steadying her nerves, she exhaled a choppy breath and wiped her hands down her jeans. She hooked her gaze with his, tilting her chin up a tad higher. “Five minutes. That’s all. Then you go.”

She jumped off the back of the pickup and walked right past him, refusing to offer a whiff of weakness, even though resignation soured in her stomach and desperation constricted every breath. She took the front steps two at a time up to the wooden porch, where she peeled off her gumboots, entered her house and switched the light on in the entry hall.

A crackle of electricity exploded above her, a current shooting from her fingertips and up her arm. “Ouch.” She yanked her hand back. The bulb above flickered momentarily, then a loud popping sound bounced off the walls, and the bulb died, sending the hall into darkness. “Damn.”

“Problem?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she snapped. Darn it. How many more bulbs would blow? “I might as well take out shares in the company that makes those blasted bulbs,” she grumbled. “It’s an old house and dates back to the eighteen hundreds. There’s bound to be…problems,” she said, unsure why she was trying to explain the shortcomings of her dilapidated house.

“So get them fixed,” he countered.

If only it were that easy.

“Follow me.” She beckoned to Mac and led him down the hallway and into the welcoming kitchen-cum-dining-and-lounge area, grateful no more bulbs exploded overhead.

Leah knew he followed. She felt him right behind her, just as she’d done when she’d left his office. It was a sensation that was disconcerting and scarily exciting at the same time. Mac Grainger didn’t exactly frighten her, though she was uncertain what he really knew or didn’t know about Charlee. But she did, however, fear his power and what he could take away.

A coffee, a chat, then she’d see him out. Easy.

Confident she could cope with at least that, she washed her hands at the sink, wiped them on the towel she kept close by and busied herself in the kitchen. She reached for two mugs from a cupboard and, without asking him, tossed a spoonful of coffee into each. “Sugar?” she queried, holding a sugar bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

He shook his head.

He stood at the entrance to her tiny kitchen, so close that heat burned off him. Her mouth dried, and she slid her tongue across parted lips, only to catch him watching her like a falcon focused on its prey.

“You don’t have to stand guard, Mr. Grainger. I’m not running.”

“Yet,” he answered smoothly.

Nerves spun taut, her fragile control tilted precariously. She directed her attention to the steam rising from the kettle, though her awareness of him burgeoned as she tried desperately to remember what, if anything, Curtis had said about him. Though in truth, her husband’s brother had barely rated a mention during their marriage, and while Curtis had been good-looking, charming her easily, Mac doubled the quota in the good-looks department. She peered at him through the wispy steam rising from the kettle.

He was tall, imposing and sexy as hell, and even though it shouldn’t, her heart did a flurry of flip-flops.